


Frequencies

by akire_yta



Series: prompt ficlets [241]
Category: Leverage, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 12:06:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6565495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>trcunning asked for: You can’t hack Tony Stark, so Hardison has to go old school.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frequencies

 

You can’t hack Tony Stark, or anything anywhere near him, but months of careful searching find a chink in the armour, a low-level HR contract to outsource temps.  A quick algorithm based on previous appointments to SI, and Hardison gets his in.

The clerk’s ID badge won’t get him far, but Parker’s mentored him until it’s as familiar as typing.  A higher level badge climbs him one step up the ladder.  Six more lifts and he’s stepping off into the executive suite, his cheap suit jacket bundled in a bin as he deftly straightens the lapel of the tailored blazer.  The cufflinks are heavy on his wrist, gifts from Sophie that arrived in a beautiful package along with a handwritten note for their use written on heavy paper that smelled slightly of lavender.

His heartbeat is steady as he approaches reception, an easy smile on his face.  Hacker rumour had it that they ran biometric scans on these levels; even his pulse could give him away.

He’d trained using horror movies and by giving Eliot a free pass to try and scare him for a week.  Eliot had enjoyed himself way too much, but by the end, his little wrist-based device registered no upticks.

The papers were in the correct folders, stolen by the clerk he had been.  The letterheads were correct, the font perfect.

Hardison had hacked history.  This time, he was using RFID, woven into the paper itself.

The admin took the stack with barely a glance, turning to slot them into the correct stacks.

Hardison turned and walked easily away, as if heading back to the offices.  In his pocket, his phone vibrated, signalling the RFID had found their target.

He resisted the urge to check the phone until he was clear of the building, joining the flow of people streaming into Grand Central.

There was a text.

_Nice work.  Next time, say please.  TS._

Hardison stopped dead, not hearing the curses as the stream of people split around him.  As he stared at the message, another came in, then another, file after file after file.

Hardison glanced back, up at the tower, and waved.

 _will do - thanks_ He texted back

The reply was instantaneous.   _Go get ‘em.  Then come see me._

Hardison nodded, under no illusion now that he wasn’t under surveillance, and continued on into the station.


End file.
